by T. K. Leigh
I scrunched my nose momentarily, then realized which word he referred to. I vehemently shook my head. “No. I will never!”
He stopped in his tracks, pulling me against him. He buried his head in my neck, nibbling on my earlobe. “Please, Molly,” he whispered, his tone seductive.
All he had to do was press his body against mine, murmur in his sensual voice, use his tongue on my skin, and I was putty in his hands. His large, rough, talented hands.
“I’m thirty,” I declared with a quiver.
A low rumble escaped his throat, the sound of his laughter bringing a smile to my face. He draped his arm across my shoulders and we continued back toward his blanket.
“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“That one definitely hurt a little bit.”
He faced me, holding my hands in his. “I love you, Molly Brinks, crazy tendencies and all.”
“And I love you, Noah McAllister, even though you’re complete rubbish in bed.”
He cocked his head, giving me a coy look. “Is that so?”
“Oh yes. I’ve had to fake every orgasm with you.” I avoided his eyes.
“Well, I guess I’ll just have to keep practicing with you. Is that something you’d be interested in?” Snaking his arm around my waist, he lowered his mouth to mine. He nibbled on my bottom lip, the gesture causing a spark of electricity to run through my body.
“God, yes,” I breathed. I had no idea how this man knew exactly how to make me want him even more, but he did.
“Good. Because I really like practicing with you.” He abruptly pulled away. “To be continued.” He winked, tugging me back toward the crowd.
I scowled playfully. “You’re such a clamjammer.” It had been so long since I’d been with Noah. I would have given anything to feel him again.
“Clamjammer?” He lifted a brow.
“It’s the female equivalent to a cockblocker. You, Noah McAllister, are clamjamming me right now.”
“Maybe,” he murmured, his breath hot on my neck. “But just think how amazing that first orgasm, which you claim you fake, will feel after hours of pent-up sexual frustration. All evening long, with each brush of my fingers on your leg, each squeeze of my hand on your hip, each nip of my teeth on your skin, you’ll be thinking of what’s in store for you later.”
“God, I’ve missed you,” I panted, his erotic words giving me a high no drug could replicate.
He grinned. “Me, too.” He wrapped me in his embrace, leaving a soft kiss on my nose. “I love you, Molly.”
“And I love you.”
“It’s about time you finally came to your senses.”
EPILOGUE
Nine Months Later
“KNOCK, KNOCK!” NOAH’S VOICE called out from the hallway before opening the door to my office.
My eyes burned from being glued to my laptop for the past however many hours, but my latest book was nearly finished. Welcoming the distraction, I looked up from my laptop to see Noah carrying two large boxes.
“Does it look like I need any more boxes in here?” I gestured around the room.
Boxes were piled high in nearly every corner of my new office in Noah’s house. He’d been pestering me about whether I was ever going to get around to unpacking. I simply responded that I’d unpack as the need arose.
Deciding to leave my apartment in Boston and move in with Noah wasn’t as big of an adjustment as I thought it would have been. I’d been practically living at his place anyway. This made it official. I couldn’t have been happier to spend lazy Sundays on the couch with Noah, to welcome him home from a hard day at work with a home-cooked meal, clothing optional.
“No, but I think you’ll want these.” He winked and my eyes widened.
I jumped out of my chair, rushing toward him as he set the boxes on the floor. Grabbing a razor blade off my desk, I made quick work of the tape sealing one of the boxes closed, throwing all the packing materials everywhere.
A smile of satisfaction and accomplishment tugged at my lips as I held my book in my hands. I’d been writing and publishing for over five years. I’d never forget how I felt when I held my very first book. I’d been so proud of finally having a book with my name on it, or my pen name anyway, that I didn’t reflect on everything. Instead of writing what was in my heart, I followed the herd and wrote what was popular, what was trendy. There was no substance to it. But the book I held in my hands now was different. This was all me, a story I wanted to tell.
I’d written my love story.
After considerable thought and support from Drew and Noah, I’d decided to forfeit my contract with my publisher. I didn’t want to write what someone else told me to. I wanted to write what was in my heart. As much as I wanted to publish the first version of Avery and Jackson’s story on my own, after speaking with my agent and having a lawyer review my contract with my publisher, I felt it best to table the book for now so as not to run into any legal problems down the road.
At first, I was upset at the thought of no one ever reading their story because of how personal it was to me. Then Noah had said something that gave me hope.
“They can hold Avery and Jackson hostage, but they’ll never be able to take our love away from each other. That’s the most important thing.”
That was when I knew how to fix this. I didn’t need Avery and Jackson, not when my own love story was even better.
I nestled into the crook of Noah’s arm as we gazed at the cover of my book, my real name on it in big, bold letters. Able to sense what I was thinking, he whispered, “He would have been proud of you.”
“I know,” I responded through the lump in my throat.
If he knew about my alter ego, I’d often wondered if my father would have bragged about me the way he did Drew…if he would have remembered who I was even during those later weeks.
“When did you change the title?” Noah asked, picking up one of the paperbacks in the box. “I thought you were going to call it Confessions of a Reformed Serial Dater.”
“I was,” I admitted. “But I think the new one’s a lot more fitting.” I shrugged, looking at the script of the new title, Writing Mr. Right.
“I agree.” He nuzzled his nose into my hair, inhaling my scent. We’d been living together for nearly three months now, but he still knew how to make me grow weak in the knees to the point of hauling him into the bedroom for another round of “research”.
“Read to me,” he murmured, resting his hands on my hips as we swayed to the sound of nothing and everything all at once.
I closed my eyes, lost in the feel of his warm body against mine. He peppered kisses down my neck and across my nape as I began to recite from memory the first few lines of my book.
“No,” he murmured. “I know how it begins. I want to know how it ends.”
“‘It’s about time you finally came to your senses,’” I said, recalling the last line in the book.
Noah shook his head. “That’s not what I’m talking about, Molly,” he replied, his tone sensual as he continued rocking his body against me. When I suddenly no longer felt his arms around me, a void washed over me.
I flung my eyes open. All the oxygen left my lungs and my heart sank into the pit of my stomach when I saw him on one knee in front of me. He reached into his pocket and withdrew a black velvet box. Flipping it open, he revealed a stunning round cut diamond.
My hands trembling, I shook my head. “Noah, please…” I grabbed his elbow and yanked him back up, imploring him with my expression.
“Molly, I thought…” Confusion covered every inch of his body, his mouth agape, his eyes wide with concern, the lines on his face furrowed.
“Noah,” I sighed, then my lips turned up into a brilliant smile. “I don’t want you to look up to me, and I never want to look down on you. For the rest of my life, I want to look beside me and see you there.” I held my left hand toward him. A tear escaped, my heart nearly bursting with love at the thought of waking up every day with th
is beautiful, caring, passionate man at my side, supporting me, nurturing me, loving me…duck attacks and all.
Relief washed over him, his shoulders relaxing. “I had a whole speech planned, and this is kind of throwing it for a loop.”
“I’ve learned one very important thing this past year,” I began as he held the ring up to my finger. He lowered his lips to mine and slid it into place. Most women would probably be upset they didn’t get some big elaborate speech with a declaration of undying and never-ending love from a man on one knee in front of them. Not me. This moment was exactly as I dreamt it would be.
“And what’s that?”
Grabbing his cheeks in my hands, the sparkle of the diamond catching my eyes, I murmured, “Plans are meant to be broken.”
The End
COMING SOON
For the Love of Brooklyn
Wondering if Drew and Brooklyn get their own happily ever after? Find out in 2018 in For the Love of Brooklyn, a heart-wrenching second chance, friends-to-lovers romance.
Add it to your Goodreads TBR today:
https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/35383372-for-the-love-of-brooklyn
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PLAYLIST
Follow this playlist on Spotify here.
No Time For Lonely - LOLO
Days Like This - Kim Taylor
Paper Hearts - Silver Trees, feat. Bailey Jehl
Fallin’ For You - Colbie Caillat
Where I Belong - Bobby Bazini
Sparks - Coldplay
Dance With Me - Griffin House
I Put a Spell on You - Nina Simone
Never Got Away - Colbie Caillat
Farewell - Rosie Thomas
Trouble - Coldplay
Desire - Meg Myers
Lifted Away - Joseph
I Like The Way This is Going - Eels
Tourist - Yuna
Miracles - Matt White
Bewitched, Bothered, And Bewildered - Ella Fitzgerald
Masterpiece - Josh Kelley
Addicted To Love - Florence + The Machine
Give Me Something - Emeli Sandé
Changes - Jack Savoretti
Fearless - Colbie Caillat
Without You - for KING & COUNTRY
Till I Fall Asleep - Jayme Dee
And So It Goes - Sara Gazarek
It Must Have Been Love - Kari Kimmel
Hit and Run - LOLO
I Never Told You - Colbie Caillat
Beautiful Lies - Jon McLaughlin
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I wasn’t supposed to write this book for at least five or six more years, but here I am, publishing book number ten, which ended up being Writing Mr. Right. The original title was Blocked. I had a rough premise in my notes, but this book became something else entirely. The inspiration came to me one day when I was going through responses to questions I tend to pose on my Facebook page. I had asked “What’s your biggest fear?”
The responses were across the board — death, cancer, losing my family. There was one response that stuck with me — love. And Molly Brinks was born. What better way to write about a woman who has the same fears so many others do than to make her a romance author?
I had fully intended on working on a different book first, a more emotional contemporary romance featuring one of the characters readers first met in Heart of Marley. When I decided to change gears, I was already working on a very heavy, emotional book — Vanished. I needed a break from the heartache, and Molly’s voice was shouting in my head, so I made the decision to work on a romantic comedy.
I think it’s fitting I can celebrate my tenth release with this particular story — the tale of a romance author who believes real love isn’t real life but then finds love where she wasn’t expecting it. I’ve taken some liberties with a few things in the book but the fears Molly has, personally and professionally, are real things I think many of us authors experience. The doubt. The drama. The loneliness. Bearing our hearts and souls for readers to rip to shreds. It’s not easy, but I couldn’t imagine doing anything else.
It’s still a bit surreal to think this is my tenth book. It’s been an amazing journey and I couldn’t have done it without the love and support of my husband, Stan. He’s been my biggest cheerleader since day one and he still is. On the same note, I need to send a HUGE thank you to my two wonderful nannies, Sharon and Julia. I’d be elbow deep in shit (no pun intended) if I didn’t have these two women helping me with little Miss Harper Leigh. They love my little girl as they would their own and I’m truly blessed to have found them.
Writing a book is not an easy task and there are so many people involved. There’s one small group of women I trust with my baby when it’s just random babbling and they help mold it into the story it becomes in the final product. First, a big thank you to my beta readers… Joelle, Karen, Lin, Melissa, Stacy, Sylvia, Victoria - thank you ladies for taking the time and effort in reading this and giving me your valuable feedback.
I also need to thank the only woman I’d ever let touch my babies, Kim Young. She’s edited every single one of my books and I couldn’t imagine trying to do this without her brain and expertise. It’s rare to find someone who cares about my book as much as I do, and Kim certainly does.
None of this would be possible without my wonderful team of admins who help keep my social media presence going when I lock myself away to write — Melissa, Victoria, Lea, Joelle, you girls are my rockstars. And a special shout out to my Burnham Bitches, who do more for me and ask nothing in return than any sane human should. #BurnhamBitches4Life. Another huge thank you to my Street Team, my Angels. It still amazes me how many people devote their time to promoting me and my books. Simply saying thank you seems so inadequate for all you do for me, but thank you!
None of this would be possible without all you amazing bloggers who volunteer your time to read, review, promote all of us. You’re the reason so many of us authors are able to stay independently published, so thank you!
Last but not least, thank you to you, my wonderful readers. Whether this is your first book of mine or your tenth, I am humbled by your support. I hope you’ll stick with me for the next ten books, too!
Love and peace,
~T.K.
BOOKS BY T.K. LEIGH
The Beautiful Mess Series
A Beautiful Mess
A Tragic Wreck
Gorgeous Chaos
The Deception Duet
Chasing The Dragon
Slaying The Dragon
Stand Alone Titles
Heart Of Light
Heart Of Marley
The Other Side Of Someday
Vanished
Writing Mr. Right
For more information on any of these titles and upcoming releases, please visit T.K.’s website:
www.tkleighauthor.com
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
T.K. Leigh, otherwise known as Tracy Leigh Kellam, is the USA Today Bestselling author of the Beautiful Mess series, in addition to several other works. Originally from New England, she now resides in sunny Southern California with her husband, dog, and three cats, all of which she has rescued (including the husband). In late 2015, she gave birth to her first (and only) baby. When she’s not planted in front of her computer, writing away, she can be found training for her next marathon (of which she has run over twenty fulls and far too many halfs to recall) or chasing her daughter around the house.
T.K. Leigh is represented by Jane Dystel of Dystel & Goderich Literary Management. All publishing inquiries, including audio, foreign, and film rights, should be directed to her.
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